


Can't We Just Talk

by backwardsghost



Series: Higher Than Love [2]
Category: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Puppy Play, Smut, because yeonjun technically had pink eye when this is set lmao, but alas only a tiny bit, but would you expect anything less, mentions of weed, namgi weigh the ethics of fucking yeonjun, namjoon has a humiliation kink, once again namgi are Emotionally Constipated, please don't look too closely into the timeline, they don't actually have a threesome and for that i am Regretful, yeonjun is mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:53:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28697997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwardsghost/pseuds/backwardsghost
Summary: Namjoon and Yoongi have a hard time talking about their feelings. Yeonjun is there to lend a helping hand.
Relationships: Choi Yeonjun/Kim Namjoon | RM, Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga, Kim Namjoon/Min Yoongi/Choi Yeonjun
Series: Higher Than Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121747
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Can't We Just Talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daegumoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daegumoon/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Daria!!!! 
> 
> Technically, this is a sequel to [Higher Than Love,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26152354) although the tone is completely different. It can also be read as a stand-alone work.

“Are we ever going to talk about it, Namjoon?”

Yoongi intentionally uses Namjoon’s full name, full-stop. No “Joon,” not even a “Namjoon-ah.” It’s been a couple months since their stoned hookup in the U.S., and despite having a whole month off to finally talk things through, they’re three weeks in and neither has spoken a word about that fateful day. 

Namjoon turns his head from the screen first, still clicking away at the keyboard. They’ve been workshopping a potential duet for their next album, the premise being that “respect is greater than love,” yet right now Namjoon is staring in a direction somewhere past Yoongi’s temple, like he’s desperately trying to avoid Yoongi’s gaze. So much for “respect.” 

Namjoon turns his chair then, finally pulling away from the screen. His face remains fixed in an attempt at unaffectedness, which Yoongi already knows is a dead giveaway Namjoon is, in fact, _extremely_ affected. 

“Talk about _what?”_ Namjoon replies, with just the tiniest bit of bite. It’s the same tone he uses when interviewers are getting a little too personal with their questions. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything back, simply folding his hands across his chest and leaning back in his chair. Squared off like this, it does feel a little bit like they’re about to fight, or maybe at least smash their lips together. 

It’s then that the latch to Namjoon’s studio clicks and the door swings open. “Namjoon-hyung, I have a surprise for you,” a voice says from the door, and when Yoongi whips his head over, he’s greeted with the sight of a tall, blue-haired man dropping a black leather duster to the floor, revealing swaths of naked skin underneath.

“Yoongi-hyung!” both Namjoon and Yeonjun yell in unison, Namjoon jumping to his feet on reflex and Yeonjun grabbing the coat off the ground and rushing to hold it in front of himself.

Yoongi’s mind goes blank, trying to process exactly what’s happening right now. Just moments ago, he and Namjoon were on the precipice of heatedly making out, which by Yoongi’s reckoning is one step away from actually talking about their feelings, and now Yeonjun, member of the rookie group they’re supposed to be mentoring, is hovering awkwardly by the door, basically naked.

“So let me get this straight,” Yoongi says carefully, looking back and forth from Namjoon to Yeonjun. “You two... _fuck?”_

Namjoon splutters, then launches into a full-on coughing fit. Yoongi is seconds away from calling him a drama queen, but fortunately, Yeonjun collects himself enough to reply before that happens.

“Yes, um, Yoongi-hyung, the short answer is, uh, yes. Also, can I--?” Yeonjun asks, gesturing toward the coat held awkwardly in front of him.

Yoongi nods, then lets out a soft, “Oh, yeah,” when Yeonjun doesn’t make an effort to move, before finally turning around to give him some privacy.

“You’re good,” Namjoon says after a second, having apparently caught his breath. 

Yoongi turns back toward Namjoon and seizes his opportunity to pounce. “Care to explain why he--” he motions in the direction of Yeonjun, “--is butt-naked in your studio right now? For fuck’s sake, I don’t even have the code to get in here, and _he_ does?”

Yeonjun coughs, to which Yoongi offers a quick, “Sorry.”

Namjoon’s eyes scan the room, still looking anywhere but at Yoongi and, now, Yeonjun. He looks like he might cry, and Yoongi is reveling in it.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi says, eyes burning daggers into him. “How did this even begin?”

Namjoon clenches his jaw, Yoongi’s favorite tell that he’s barely holding in whatever snarky comment he wants to say. What comes out, though, is more of a stutter. “I, we, well, you know Yeonjun came and saw us on tour this summer.”

Of course he remembers TOMORROW X TOGETHER visiting; it was only a few days after he and Namjoon had hooked up, actually. Yoongi wills himself to keep his voice steady as he says, “Yes, I recall. He visited with the rest of his group. Of rookies. That we mentor.”

“Can you please stop saying it like that?” Namjoon asks nervously, glancing over at Yeonjun.

“Look at me, Namjoon.” Finally, Namjoon looks Yoongi in the eyes, a mortified expression on his face.

“So, as you were saying, Yeonjun came to our show?” Yoongi spits, articulating each word contemptuously.

Namjoon swallows dryly. Yoongi’s sure if Namjoon were to lift his arms there would be sweat stains on his white tee. “Yes, hyung. He came to our show, and we exchanged KakaoTalk numbers, and we started talking after that, just about, like, rap. We like a lot of the same music, actually. And Yeonjun’s a big fan.”

“So you just fuck all your _big fans_ now? Thought you moved on from that, what, four, five years ago?”

Yeonjun interjects then. “Excuse me, uh, Yoongi-hyung. I just want to clarify that, you know, both me and Namjoon really wanted this. Like, a lot. It’s a two-way thing. We’re really compatible, in, like, our kinks and stuff.”

Yoongi leans back in his chair and folds his hands over his chest, just like before. “Kinks and stuff, eh Namjoon-ah?”

Namjoon looks about ready to melt out of his skin. He clears his throat, before saying, “Anyway...Yeonjun-ah, you’re welcome to stay if you want. Yoongi-hyung and I are just finishing up.” Namjoon shoots Yoongi a look, like he’s trying to tell Yoongi it’s his cue to leave. Yoongi shrugs stubbornly, and Namjoon sighs, then puts his headphones on and turns back toward the computer screen. 

Yeonjun shuffles over to the couch opposite Namjoon’s soundboard setup. Yoongi leaves the rickety metal chair he’d hauled into the studio for their writing session, and takes a seat next to Yeonjun on the couch. He’s careful to leave space between them, but just enough so that if he leans forward to speak to Yeonjun, his knee barely grazes the edge of Yeonjun’s. 

Yoongi pulls out his phone to scroll for a minute, trying to redirect some of his anger while also stubbornly passing the time until he can ream Namjoon some more for tonight’s unexpected encounter. After a couple minutes of mindlessly browsing Twitter, he glances up, and Yeonjun is staring at him intently, his expression fixed in a cocky half-smirk. Yoongi gives Yeonjun a brief once-over. He looks put-together, despite the surprise earlier. His blue hair is sleek, parted to the side. There’s a shimmer of shadow around his eyes and maybe a slight tint of lip balm. Yeonjun’s cute; Yoongi will give Namjoon that much. Guess he might as well chat with Yeonjun while they wait for Namjoon.

“So,” Yoongi starts, “How are you, Yeonjun-ah? Sorry about all that earlier.”

Yeonjun laughs, flashing two large, bunny-like front teeth. “Haha, no _I’m_ sorry. I bet that was super awkward for you, Yoongi-hyung. I don’t much mind the hot-hyungs-seeing-me-naked part. Got nothing to hide, really.”

As Yeonjun speaks, Yoongi follows how the lines of his plush lips form each word. He’s so busy making a mental note to send Bit Hit’s plastic surgeon flowers that he almost misses the part where Yeonjun calls him hot. Almost. “Ahaaa, well um,” Yoongi splutters, tripping over his words. He spares a glance down Yeonjun’s body, which now that he’s seen under the coat, he wouldn’t be mad about seeing again. “That’s great that you’re confident while being in a rookie group.”

Yeonjun sticks his tongue out, then turns his entire body so he’s kneeling on the couch, facing Yoongi. “Don’t disparage me; just because my group debuted this year doesn’t mean we’re not good. Please, I _know_ we’re good.”

Yoongi realizes this is the longest he and Yeonjun have ever spoken one-on-one, and so far Yoongi likes him. He’s confident, in much the same way Yoongi was when he was a rookie. “I always thought you were really shy, to be honest. I’ve seen you and Namjoon interact a few times in passing and kind of thought you were afraid of him.”

“I mean, I respect Namjoon-hyung, of course. But mostly we wouldn’t want to give anyone a reason to suspect anything, right? I’m sure Big Hit would hate to have a dating scandal on their hands, especially one involving ‘BTS RM’ and a rookie, ” Yeonjun replies with a cocky grin, running a hand through his hair as he bites his (very large, very kissable-looking) lower lip. He reaches over and places a hand on Yoongi’s thigh, rubbing back and forth slowly, but with an obvious intent. 

Yoongi sneaks a quick look over at Namjoon. It appears that at some point during Yoongi and Yeonjun’s conversation, Namjoon had stopped working. His headphones are off, and he’s facing the pair on the couch, staring them down with an expression that Yoongi can only place as rage. 

Yeonjun looks over then, too, and to Yoongi’s surprise, he lets out a cold, nasal laugh. “Oh, did someone’s little feelings get hurt?”

To Yoongi’s horror, Namjoon moans, his face transforming from a look of anger to something more complex. Submission? Yoongi hates that his dick twitches ever so slightly at the thought.

“So that’s what it is then? Jealous I’m talking to someone else?” Yeonjun asks meanly, eyes trained on Namjoon. “Thought you liked that, Namjoon.” Yoongi notices he's dropped the honorifics. 

Namjoon glances hesitantly in Yoongi’s direction, clearly embarrassed, but when Yeonjun makes a little displeased noise in his throat, Namjoon nods. 

“That’s better,” Yeonjun coos. Yoongi realizes Yeonjun’s hand is still on his leg, having somehow drifted up higher as he was talking to Namjoon. “Did you finger yourself before this, Namjoon? I was hoping to fuck you on the couch tonight. That’s why I came in here naked.”

Namjoon audibly gulps, then awkwardly adjusts himself, before nodding solemnly. It takes Yoongi a second too long to realize what that means, then he groans, “Jesus, Namjoon, I touched that keyboard after you.”

Namjoon whimpers, and yeah, that’s definitely a hard-on in his sweats. Yoongi feels like he has whiplash from all that’s happened in the last handful of minutes, from Yeonjun switching from shy and polite to...whatever role-play thing this is, to Namjoon going totally pliant, the usual combativeness he has with Yoongi deflated out of him like a balloon. 

“I, uh, can leave,” Yoongi stammers. “We can talk another time. I’ll give you guys some privacy.” He begins to stand up, but Yeonjun clamps down on Yoongi’s thigh with his hand. 

“What were you planning on talking about? I’m happy to wait, or moderate, if you need,” Yeonjun says, giving a knowing look toward Namjoon as he begins to grope at Yoongi’s rapidly hardening cock over his tiny black shorts. 

Namjoon groans, adjusting his dick again. “You can take it out,” Yeonjun says to Namjoon, as he continues running his hand up and down Yoongi’s length. 

Namjoon slips his pants and underwear off in one go, obviously eager to be free of the offending clothing, then takes his cock in his hand immediately. Even though Yoongi is seated across the room, he can already see the precum practically dripping from Namjoon’s dick. He remembers that from the last time he and Namjoon hooked up, too, just how wet Namjoon gets when he’s worked up. It’s different now that they’re sober, though. Yoongi feels more lucid, more aware of just how hot Namjoon is, even with Yeonjun here, barking orders at Namjoon. 

That reminds Yoongi: “So, what’s actually going on between you two?”

“Nah-ah,” Yeonjun tuts, removing his hand from Yoongi’s dick. “You two talk first. Then you and I can fuck Namjoon.”

Namjoon makes a strangled sound, grabbing the base of his cock like he’s going to cum already. Yoongi would laugh, but he’s too busy trying to buck his hips up into Yeonjun’s touch for a tiny bit of friction. 

“I’ll touch you if you talk to Namjoon, Yoongi-hyung.” At least Yoongi’s earned enough respect to get a “hyung.” 

Yoongi sighs defeatedly, then begins, “Why did we never talk about California, Namjoon?” 

He’s rewarded by Yeonjun slipping his hand under the waistband of Yoongi’s shorts and briefs, cool fingers wrapping around Yoongi’s dick and giving it a gentle tug. 

Namjoon frowns, and Yeonjun gives a soft, “Hm?”

“Fine,” Namjoon says exasperatedly, “I didn’t bring it up because we were high, and I was worried you might have thought fooling around was a mistake. I didn’t know if you even wanted to hook up, hyung.” He tugs on his cock for emphasis. 

“Didn’t want that?” Yoongi replies, his voice sounding far more affected than he means it to. Yeonjun strokes faster, urging him on. “Namjoon-ah, I’ve wanted that for years. Nine, to be exact.”

Namjoon grunts, and instantly cums in thick ropes onto his fist and the floor in front of him.

Yeonjun’s hand falters. He raises his eyebrows, snickering in Namjoon’s direction . “Nine years? Guys, please.” 

“Ugh, Yeonjun, don’t stop,” Yoongi pleads.

Yeonjun continues stroking at Yoongi’s cock as he says, “Namjoon, it’s your turn. What do you have to say to Yoongi?”

Yoongi’s so close to coming that his vision feels hazy. With every upstroke, Yeonjun flicks his wrist slightly, which adds an agonizingly good friction right on the head of Yoongi’s cock. He’s teetering so close to the edge he could scream, but he still just needs something to push him off that ledge.

Namjoon’s eyes meet Yoongi’s. He’s sweaty; of course he is. His eyes are hooded, like his orgasm took a lot out of him. Below that is something harder for Yoongi to read, despite how long he’s known Namjoon. Then, Namjoon says it: “I really respect you.”

Yoongi feels his balls pull taught, then release, as he squirts cum into his shorts. Yeonjun smirks as he withdraws his hand to wipe it on the outside of Yoongi’s shorts. 

Suddenly, in a bout of post-orgasmic clarity, the absurdity of the situation hits Yoongi. They’re sitting in Namjoon’s studio, like they’ve done so many times before when songwriting together, but the difference is that right now Namjoon’s pants are pooled around his ankles, his dick is out, softening between his legs, and there’s an obvious pile of spunk on the ground next to him. Yoongi’s own cum is starting to get uncomfortable as it dries in his shorts, meanwhile, Yeonjun is still perched on the couch, seemingly unbothered. His little flasher stunt from earlier feels like it happened an entire lifetime ago. 

“Hey, wait,” Yoongi says, blood slowly returning to his brain. Namjoon blinks dumbly at Yoongi, and yeah, Yoongi feels that. It’s the respect emanating through the room, certainly. Yoongi gathers his bearings, before continuing, “What are you still doing here?”

Yeonjun raises a single eyebrow, and instead of responding to Yoongi’s question, starts unbuttoning his coat. He moves his fingers leisurely, drawing it out, unlike last time. He’s about five buttons down, revealing pale, hairless skin as his fingers travel lower, when he says, “Namjoon’s probably ready for round two. How fast can you get hard again, Yoongi-hyung?”

Namjoon squacks helplessly, but sure enough, his dick is...hard. Yoongi chooses to ignore this revelation as he blinks dumbly at Yeonjun’s mock-innocent expression. Yeonjun squints a little, like he’s the tiniest bit disappointed in Yoongi, and yeah, Yoongi’s maybe already getting a little hard too. 

“I, uh, yeah. Could go again. Like, right now.”

Yeonjun cackles, seemingly pleased with Yoongi’s answer. His leather coat is totally unbuttoned now, and he stands up to take it off. This time it’s slow, deliberate. Yoongi feels his cheeks redden, remembering that admiring the soft lines of his mentee’s waist, the lean muscle on his inner thighs, and the gentle slope of his hardening cock is probably a no-no in the Big Hit code of ethics. 

Yeonjun cuts off Yoongi’s train of thought, though. “I think Namjoon deserves a reward for talking about his feelings, no?” he says in Namjoon’s direction, patting the couch condescendingly for emphasis. “Yoongi-hyung, do you wanna fuck him with me? When I pictured this scene, I imagined I’d be fucking his ass and you’d be fucking his mouth. It’s kinda poetic that way, really.” 

Namjoon whimpers, and it sounds too similar to the soft, gentle whines he’d let out when Yoongi had touched him just a few short months ago. Yoongi remembers that Namjoon already admitted to having fingered himself open before--ew--their writing session. His mind starts to wander, and he lets himself imagine the scenario Yeonjun had just described: Namjoon on his hands and knees in front of him, full lips mouthing at the end of Yoongi’s cock, soft hair moist with sweat as he lets out little, “Ah’s,” each time Yeonjun pushes into him. Maybe he rocks forward, taking a little more of Yoongi’s length into his mouth with each thrust. Yoongi wonders how wet Namjoon’s mouth gets when he sucks dick. Does he get drooly, cross-eyed every time Yeonjun presses against his prostate? God, _Namjoon and Yeonjun have done this before,_ Yoongi remembers, shaking himself out of his own fantasy.

“Thank you for the offer, Yeonjun-ah, that, um, sounds very pleasant,” Yoongi begins, eyes again traveling across the lines of Yeonjun’s pecs, lingering too long on the pert, pinky-brown nipples. Yoongi wonders how quickly they would harden in his mouth. He shakes his head. Stay on task. “Sounds really, really nice, but could you actually leave Namjoon and I for a few minutes? He and I have a few more things we need to talk about.” 

Yeonjun shrugs. “Fine by me. Honestly Namjoon,” he turns to Namjoon, “we should probably just end things. Keeping up with Soobin is hard enough. That guy’s insatiable; he fucks like a rabbit. I was probably going to have to break it off with you soon anyway, but it seems like you and Yoongi-hyung have some pent-up shit that I’m not really ready to have to hold your hand--dick--,” he nods at Yoongi, “through again.”

Namjoon makes a disappointed face, and moves his hand a fraction of an inch, like he’s going to do something to protest, but instead just sighs feebly and pulls up his sweatpants. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Yeonjun buttons his coat, an awkward silence falling over the room. Once he’s decent, he walks over to Namjoon. He smiles, then pinches Namjoon’s cheek patronizingly. “Guess I’ll see you ‘round. Next time you come to one of our shows, try not to cum in your pants like last time, ok?” Yeonjun bows shallowly to Yoongi, which feels awfully formal considering he just had his hand around Yoongi’s dick. “Hyung,” he says, then turns and walks out the door.

~~~~

As soon as Yeonjun leaves, Yoongi turns back to Namjoon. _“Coming in your pants--?”_

“Don’t start,” Namjoon interrupts him. 

Yoongi jumps to his feet, and Namjoon follows. Yoongi knows there isn’t a logical reason for him to be angry right now, but still, he’s annoyed at their whole situation. He’s annoyed that Namjoon had some stupid thing with Yeonjun that he didn’t think to once mention to Yoongi, his best friend of nine years. He’s also annoyed that said little boyfriend had interrupted what was about to be a productive conversation about their feelings. 

Yoongi steps forward, so his chest is practically touching Namjoon’s. He stands up straight, for once, trying to puff himself up as he looks up at Namjoon. Yoongi sets his face in a scowl, and Namjoon mimics him, jaw clenching as he squints down at Yoongi.

And then they’re kissing. 

Yoongi leans forward, surging into Namjoon with a smacking of their lips and a clack of their front teeth. They adjust quickly, lips parting to lap into each other’s mouths, swapping saliva heatedly. Suddenly, with Namjoon’s tongue in his mouth, Yoongi realizes it’s only the second time they’ve ever kissed, and the first since their stoned hotel hookup in the U.S.

“You said you’re prepped?” Yoongi says, pulling back just enough to whine into Namjoon’s lips. 

Namjoon tugs Yoongi’s head back by his overgrown, chestnut hair, and proceeds to suck a hickey onto Yoongi’s neck, as he mumbles a soft, “Mhm.” If someone was sucking on his neck with that much fervor in any other instance, Yoongi would probably be pissed, but they have a week left of break, and if anyone’s going to mark Yoongi’s neck for the first time since debut they’ve been even remotely allowed to, it might as well be Namjoon. 

Yoongi pulls his head back, which earns him another hair tug from Namjoon. Yoongi grinds his hips shamelessly in response, feeling the way Namjoon’s hard-on rubs against Yoongi’s stomach because of their height. The reminder of how big Namjoon is, how his size completely dwarfs Yoongi, sends a wave of arousal right to Yoongi’s cock. “Couch, couch, now.” Yoongi says frantically, taking Namjoon’s free hand in his and nearly dragging him over to the loveseat he and Yeonjun were just sitting on.

Namjoon lies down on the couch, and Yoongi follows him, positioning himself between Namjoon’s legs. “Off,” he says, helping Namjoon out of his shirt, then his pants and underwear. Once Namjoon is out of his clothes, Yoongi takes Namjoon’s cock in his hands. He simply holds it for a second, the memory of the last time he touched Namjoon’s dick rushing back to him. 

“Hyung,” Namjoon says, a hint of urgency obvious in his tone. “Please, move.”

Yoongi gulps, nodding resolutely at Namjoon, before slowly running his hand up and down Namjoon’s cock a few times. Namjoon must still be sensitive from his last orgasm, because immediately he lets out a needy whine, throwing his head onto the pillow behind him and biting at his puffy lower lip. 

Yoongi lets go of Namjoon’s dick, and Namjoon bucks his hips up at the lack of contact. Yoongi trails his hand lower, and presses his pointer finger lightly against Namjoon’s rim. “Lift a leg for me.”

“Ugh, then you’ll see it, hyung.”

“I’m about to fuck it, Namjoon, I might as well see it first. Speaking of, where do you keep your condoms? And lube?”

Namjoon motions toward a box on the wooden bookshelf, and Yoongi barely stifles a laugh. His brain flits to a memory of watching porn with Namjoon right around the time they debuted, back in their old dorm in the middle of the night, when they figured the chances of Jungkook stumbling in and seeing a video of a naked man on a leash were the lowest. Yoongi knows the kind of stuff Namjoon is into and the frequency with which he masturbates, which is to say, of course he has supplies in here. 

Yoongi grabs the lube and a condom, then settles back between Namjoon’s legs. “Alright, up,” he says, patting Namjoon on the knee. Namjoon sighs, but obliges, pulling his leg up by his shin and holding it bent, so Yoongi can get a better look at his asshole.

Yoongi glances down and reels a little at how cute Namjoon’s hole is. He would never give Namjoon the satisfaction of knowing Yoongi is attracted to him by admitting it, of course, but he does take a second to admire the brown, puckered skin of Namjoon's hole. The hairs around it are dark, but surprisingly sparse for how much hair Yoongi knows Namjoon grows on his face and chest.

“Do you shave down here?”

Namjoon laughs breathily. “Sometimes. I get waxed sometimes, too. That’s always a fun NDA.”

“Cool,” Yoongi replies, plunging a single finger into Namjoon’s hole. Sure enough, he’s already pretty stretched, lube squelching filthily around Yoongi’s finger, filling the studio with wet sounds, paired with Namjoon’s heavy breathing. Quickly, Yoongi adds a second finger.

“Hyung,” Namjoon whines when Yoongi finds his prostate. Yoongi stays there, pressing against it meanly.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” Namjoon whimpers, as Yoongi inserts a third finger.

“Shush, I’m going to fuck you _now,_ aren’t I? Isn’t that enough?” Yoongi huffs. He fingers Namjoon for a few more minutes, before deciding that Namjoon is stretched enough and withdrawing his fingers from Namjoon’s ass. Yoongi leans back and pulls off his tee shirt, shorts, and underwear. He picks the condom up from next to him on the couch, and rips the packet open, before rolling it over his dick. “Namjoon, how do you want this?”

“Doggy.”

Yoongi sighs, because of course Namjoon likes doggy. It’s like the stuff they used to watch together, “hyung’s good pet” and all that. Yoongi wonders if Yeonjun ever told Namjoon to sit and stay. The thought is fucking hot; Yoongi’s head is spinning. “Yeah, alright, turn around.” 

Namjoon does as he’s told, positioning himself so he’s on all-fours, ass toward Yoongi. Yoongi runs a hand down Namjoon’s back, admiring the gentle slope of his spine and the slight sheen of sweat across his tanned skin, before slowly rubbing his cock between Namjoon’s cheeks a few times.

Namjoon moans and leans forward onto his elbows, propping himself up so his ass is more accessible to Yoongi.

“Think I should put it in?” Yoongi asks, half-joking with how eager he is to be inside Namjoon. “Maybe we need to talk about our feelings a little first, just like Yeonjun said.” He slaps his hand across one of Namjoon’s spread cheeks for good measure as he continues to rut against him, tip catching against Namjoon’s hole with every slow thrust, spreading lube messily onto Namjoon’s asscheeks and taint. 

“Please, hyung, god, you ah--,” Yoongi spanks him again, “--started it. You’ve liked me for nine years and didn’t make a move until a few months ago.”

Yoongi pushes inside suddenly, which earns a strangled moan from Namjoon as he clenches like a vice around Yoongi’s dick.

“Fuck you’re tight,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth, willing himself not to simply chase his own release despite how cushioned Namjoon’s walls feel around him. “Maybe you were right, we should have done this years ago.” He thrusts in hard, then, and Namjoon whines into the couch cushion. Yoongi can’t see his face, but he can picture the fucked-out expression: eyes scrunched closed, cheeks sweaty and flushed, a small trail of drool dripping from between his parted lips.

Yoongi slowly picks up his pace, still trying to delay his rapidly-building orgasm. “What was that you said earlier, Namjoon-ah? That you respect me?” He pushes in a few more times, thrusts starting to get sloppy, becoming more like quick, little slaps than full strokes. “Hm? Couldn’t hear you.”

Namjoon moans something unintelligible, and Yoongi notices he’s moved a hand from the couch to his dick, wrist working furiously as he jerks himself to Yoongi’s thrusts.

“What was that?” Yoongi asks in the most level voice he can muster. His dick feels raw from coming once already that night, and yet he’s pounding into Namjoon with the same urgency he used to pound into his pillows with back in their debut days, trying to squeeze one out before Seokjin came home from his girlfriend’s house. Yoongi wonders if it's possible to black out from coming too hard.

“Please say you like me again, Yoongi-hyung?” Namjoon practically shouts.

Yoongi would laugh, but he’s too close to the edge, too strung-out on his own release to even make fun of Namjoon. “Yeah, fuck yeah, Joon, I like you so much,” he calls out, and then he’s coming, shooting thickly into the condom.

Namjoon whimpers, mumbling obscenities into the ruined couch cushion, and with one final, high moan, also cums, spilling into his fist as Yoongi fucks him though it. 

Yoongi starts to slow his thrusts, then finally pulls out with a soft grunt, just as Namjoon says, “Alright I’m ready to talk.”

“Please Namjoon-ah, can you at least give me a minute of post-orgasmic bliss? God, I haven’t even tied off the condom yet.”

Namjoon rolls over onto his back, then belatedly cringes as he smears his own ejaculate all over himself. 

“Attaboy,” Yoongi laughs, then takes off the condom and gets up to throw it in the wastebasket by Namjoon’s desk. He grabs some tissues, then walks back to where Namjoon is now splayed out on the couch, long limbs draping off the edges. His legs are spread wide open and his dick is hanging limp and half-covered in cum. 

“Fuckin’ shameless,” Yoongi says gruffly, passing Namjoon a handful of tissues. 

“Who knew you were such a romantic, hyung?” Namjoon replies, proceeding to dab at the lube collected around his asshole.

Yoongi pulls his work chair over to the couch so Namjoon doesn’t have to sit up to make space for him. He watches Namjoon clean himself up in silence, then sighs when Namjoon tries to throw his balled-up-tissue-mess in the trash and inevitably misses. 

“So, guess we could talk now,” Yoongi starts, eyeing Namjoon intently. 

Namjoon swings an arm behind his head and leans back onto it, looking up at Yoongi through wide eyes. His stare is intense, but steady, and at least he’s finally meeting Yoongi's gaze. “Alright, yeah. Let’s get this over with. We’ve got a week left of break; now is probably the best time to do it.”

Yoongi sighs. It’s now or never. He might as well just ask what he wants to ask so he and Namjoon can settle what’s been hanging over them since well before they hooked up in America. He takes a deep breath and gets it over with:

“Do you still like that pet-play stuff we used to watch together?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!! 
> 
> Come say hi on [twt!](https://twitter.com/knotoday)
> 
> Title from "Talk" by Khalid


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